


Prologue

by nandonman



Series: It was just a prank, Josh [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: .....again.....whoops, Character Study, Hallucinations, Josh Was Pranked AU, M/M, Ok more of a Josh character study than shipping honestly, Psychosis, The Prank, Washingroe, also post prank pre game, more trigger warnings in notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24938047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nandonman/pseuds/nandonman
Summary: Josh's hand stopped, hovering over the door knob.This was a really terrible idea.
Relationships: Mike Munroe/Josh Washington
Series: It was just a prank, Josh [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804837
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. Shame

Beth was exhausted. It was 2 a.m. and there she was, babysitting Chris "lightweight" Hartley as he slept on the counter top of her parents' lodge. Nobody else was going to--even though _Josh_ was the one who got his buddy pass-out drunk. So why the hell was she there, making sure Chris didn't fall and break his head open?

_I should just move him to the couch or something._

Actually, that wasn't a bad idea. She glanced at Chrs and for a moment, the thought crossed her mind to just give in and join the guy. They had vodka, right?

_No. Don't even think about it. You won't take it easy, and you'll end up hurling your guts out again. Just pick the guy up and drop him off. Then you can get your well-deserved sleep._

Now that was a good idea.

Beth moved to Chris's side and pat his shoulder, giving him a good shake. He didn't even flinch.

"Wow. Once again, you really outdid yourself, buddy."

The immobile man on the counter responded in a pool of drool, and Beth scowled.

"Alright. Let's get this over with."

It took a while and a lot of uncomfortable angles, but soon Chris's arm was draped over her shoulder, and they were ready to go. Chris mumbled something as Beth lead him to the couch, but as soon as he hit the cushions, he was back to lying limp and open-mouthed in an awkward L-shape. Beth took a breath and put her hands on her hips. She scoffed and smiled at the view of the mangled pile of her brother's friend. She hummed, then pulled out her phone and swiped to the camera.

"Just this once. You'll thank me later."

A snapping sound emitted from her phone as the picture of Chris was immortalized for . . . later use.

Right. Now . . . Now, she needed a drink.

Rubbing her hands together, Beth made her way back to the kitchen. A brown bottle caught her gaze--whiskey, apparently. Beth picked it up and was surprised when the hollow glass weighed lightly in her hand.

She looked back to Chris and quirked a brow. "Didn't know you could take that much."

Beth turned and placed the bottle back, then sighed and scanned the counter for more. She spotted what looked like another thing of whiskey and went to grab it when her sleeve caught on the napkin holder. With a bit too much force, she pulled her arm around and let the snag loose, knocking something off the table in the process.

Beth sighed and reluctantly leaned down to retrieve the--crumpled up paper?

When she stood again, Beth spent a moment contemplating. It couldn't be that important if it was left on the counter, right?

And so with only a little bit of guilt, Beth pressed out the paper and read.

_Josh_

_You look damn hot in those jeans...but I bet you're even hotter out of them._

_Come to the guest room at 2:00 am ;-)_

_Mike_

_xxx_

Beth's eyes widened. Fuck.

Ever since Josh came out a few months ago, the group had been more or less accepting. There were plenty of jokes, plenty of jabs . . . but for the most part, everything was fine. Why would they do this now?

Beth shoved the paper in her beanie and began her walk upstairs to find and hopefully stop her brother before things got out of hand.

_Josh couldn't have fallen for it. No way. Mike's the spitting image of "no homo."_

But then again, they weren't all exactly sober.

Fuck.

As Beth made her way up the main staircase and to Josh's room, she hoped it wasn't too late. That Josh knew what he was doing. For his sake.

_What the fuck am I doing?_

It was 2:03 when Josh made his way into the hall, jaw clenched and palms sweating.

He shouldn't be this worked up about this--he'd done a million things in this lodge already. But nothing with a dude. At least, nothing _serious_ with a dude. And Mike sounded serious.

God, and it was Mike.

There was no way Mike knew about his man-crush. That was a secret he'd kept successfully for four months, only telling Sam and . . . well, there was that time that Chris interrogated him. The same Chris who'd just gotten wasted past the point of bro-codes and secrecy. Fuck.

Okay, so he outted himself a few months back, and now his friend outted him double to . . . Mike? All of them? Shit, this was a terrible idea.

Josh's hand stopped, hovering over the door knob.

This was a really terrible idea.

Josh knocked twice, two death sentences before he swung the door open and stepped inside.

A few feet away, Mike looked up from where he sat on the bed and stood, shoving his hands in his pockets and taking a few steps forward.

"Uh. Hey."

_You're doing great, Josh._

_Shut up._

Mike flashed him a grin before rubbing his neck and moving even closer.

"Hey."

"I got your note."

Mike raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, I kinda guessed that."

Right. Fuck.

"Mhm." Josh bit the inside of his cheek, watching Mike for any sign of regret, anything that could give him an excuse to turn back and run, pretend none of this ever happened.

But Mike was rolling on his heels then, hands still in his pockets and looking . . . unsure. And yet excited.

"So you think I look good in these jeans?"

Mike's eyes widened slightly as Josh took a step forward, effectively cutting off the distance between them. He was watching Mike closely, and Mike hated it.

"Well . . . yeah. Listen, Josh-"

Mike was silenced when Josh dove in and held his arm, taking his lips in his own.

Mike couldn't move. He was standing still at first, and Josh's hungry kiss grew hesitant. There was a sound, something muffled from under the bed while Mike's hands were moving to Josh's hips.

Josh pulled away just as Mike's eyes had fallen closed, and the movement had Mike's eyes shooting right back open again.

"Oh my god, he's totally eating his face!"

"Shh!"

"You shush. Great, look, you ruined it."

"Excuse me?"

"Shit--"

" ** _Josh._** "

Josh's wide eyes flickered to Mike, who looked conflicted between forced amusement and genuine uncertainty.

Josh met his eyes, his own panicked and confused. The reality of the situation began to dawn on him, however, when one by one his friends emerged from various hiding spots around the room.

At the same time, Sam appeared in the doorway, Beth close behind.

"Shit, Josh-"

"What the fuck is this?"

Josh's voice was quieter than he meant for it to be. He tried again when no one answered.

"What the _fuck?_ "

His eyes flickered over to the selfie stick in Matt's hands, and for a moment, he stared into the lens, as anger began to pump into his veins.

"It's a prank, Josh. You've heard of those."

"Oh, definitely." Jess was smiling. _Smiling._

Josh laughed, hollow and bitter.

"Right. Right, you got me." He backed towards the doorway, focus straying again to the camera lens above Matt's head. Just before he reached the door, he turned.

Sam tried to reach out, but Beth stopped her before Josh could.

"Just let him go."

Josh B-lined it down the hall and down the first flight of stairs. There were voices behind him, but none followed him save for the one inside his head.

_You're a fucking idiot, dude. Good prank though._

Right. A good prank was all it was.

Josh ran a hand through his curls as he neared his bedroom. But when he got to the door, he stopped.

_No. Too obvious._

He debated for a moment more before the image of Beth and Hannah interrogating him had him going down the last flight of stairs, socked feet thumping against the sleek hardwood floors.

He heard a voice—was that Hannah?—and a wave of childish fear washed over him. Suddenly he found himself opening the door to the hallway and making his way to the garage, all the while feeling reminded of when his sisters and him would play hide and seek. God, he wished that was what was happening.

Instead, Josh found himself curled up with his knees to his chest, hiding from his well-meaning sisters (and Sam) in the little offshoot room where his dad kept all his tools.

Behind him, wooden shelves poked into his spine, making him curl forward even further into his legs.

It was dark behind his eyelids, and yet the world was way too bright. Too real, like the feelings of shame and insecurity in his stomach.

“What the fuck man . . . You shouldn’t have fallen for that . . .”

And yet he had.

In a moment Josh felt tears prick at his eyes, and he scoffed at himself for being so sensitive. But at the same time, he knew it was more than just embarrassing himself that hurt. It was more related to the weeks he spent agonizing over his sexuality, resolving to be as honest as possible if it ever came up because what could happen? What could anyone do that would really upset him anyway?

Josh’s thoughts were interrupted as he heard people coming into the garage. Sam.

“Josh? Josh, come on, where are you?”

“Josh, if you don’t get your ass out here right now . . .”

“. . .Uh, Beth?” Hannah’s voice.

“Yeah?”

“You gonna finish that?”

A pause.

“I’ll . . . Kill ya!”

Josh grabbed fistfuls of his sleeves, taking a deep breath. He couldn’t go out there. Not looking like he did.

He shivered, feeling insecurity dig away at the barrier he put between himself and the things he’d been holding off for their vacation. The shame dug away until anxiety rose, and with it came a mess of emotions that had him shaking in place, legs twitching and core practically vibrating. Damn it all, there was no way he’d face his little sisters like this.

No. They could wait.

Minutes passed before it became clear that Josh wasn’t in the house. Beth and the others checked every room and hallway, but to find nothing.

“Wait. He can’t be outside, can he?”

Beth turned to face her sister, frown growing.

“I hope not. He’ll freeze to death out there.”

“Really?” Emily deadpanned, a hand on her hip.

“I mean, he obviously wants to be alone, right? Maybe we should just let him . . . Have a moment.” Ashley had her arms crossed, switching from foot to foot. Uncertain.

Beth raised an eyebrow. “And leave him to brood all alone? I don’t think so.”

“Well then let’s go find him.”

Beth turned to look at Hannah, who fixed the former with a knowing gaze. This wasn’t the first time Josh had disappeared.

Beth sighed and glanced at the coat rack across the room.

“I guess that’s our best bet.” She turned back to the others. “No offense, but I really don’t think any of you should come. You’re probably the last people Josh wants to see right now.”

Sam lowered her eyes, Matt absently ran his thumb over the phone lens in his pocket, and Mike stayed quiet, for once.  
Beth gave them all a disdainful look before glancing back at Hannah and tossing her a coat.

“Come on, Han. Let’s go find our thick-headed brother.”

  
The group of teenagers followed the Washington twins to the doorstep, feeling obligated to at least somewhat support their excursion.

”It was just a prank, Josh!” Emily called out, hands tucked into the pockets of her designer jacket.

”Oh, shut up, Em. Please.”

Emily glared at Beth but didn’t push it, instead turning and motioning for Mike to follow her back into the cabin. The latter took one last look out into the snow and paused before turning and venturing inside. Soon, the others followed, one by one, until Sam was left, biting her lip and watching as the twins made their way into the bitter cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mike's a dick and Josh is dumb but things will get cleared up through the series! :)


	2. I Did It All For You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh copes with the loss of his sisters, and his own issues outside of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: visual & auditory hallucinations, paranoia, suicide attempt, hospital stay, implied overdose

Josh grunted as he tossed the last bit of laundry into the washing machine. He pulled away and set the dial to "cotton/normal," filled the measuring cup with detergent, then pressed the start button.

One thing done.

~~Somewhere in the back of his mind, Josh wondered what came next, how could he go on, what was he _doing_~~

Josh walked to the kitchen and to the sink, staring at the pile of dishes. Seriously? Did nobody know how to clean up after themselves?

Josh mentally checked off _do the dishes_ from the To-Do List his parents assigned him. He had a routine they were strict on him following, ever since things got worse. Josh didn't really mind. Of course, he missed staying up senselessly late with friends. He missed driving around, getting away for a bit. He missed being alone. No, that wasn't right. He missed being okay when he was alone.

The sink was surprisingly easy to clear out; it was mostly full of pans before. Oh, that's right. They'd forgotten to do the dishes last ni

Out of the corner of his eye, Josh saw a full human figure standing beside him. His head snapped to face the person--his father, but . . . where was his head?

He blinked. It was nowhere to be seen.

In fact, there was nothing at all. No shape even resembling a person, no shadow, nothing.

". . . Fuck."

Josh turned back, stared at the sponge in his hand, and swallowed the nervousness in his throat.

A week later, Josh saw another person. He was driving when in the road a woman sat with her knees drawn up, smoking. He swerved out of the way, but when he looked again, there was nothing to be seen. Once again, it was as if she was nothing but a vision--a ghost, blinking into his reality for no more than a few seconds.

The next time he saw something, it was an hour later. And it wasn't human.

He was at the grocery store, picking up a few things for his parents, debating whether or not to buy an energy drink for work--when the oranges, apples, and pears lying next to each other on the display shelf started moving. Josh couldn't help but stare. And as he did, they became . . . sentient. Moving with purpose, moving _toward_ him. They wanted to hurt him.

The next Wednesday, Josh met with his psychiatrist.

By the end of the session, Dr. Lambert had determined that these hallucinations- _could he call them that?_ \--were being caused by his current medication, Irenka. Apparently the switch from Prozac was causing visual hallucinations, mild and yet certainly not a good sign. This in mind, Dr. Lambert prescribed a new medication, and then Josh was going down the elevator and back to his car.

The following week began well. Josh stayed busy, working nights and following routine during the day.

But then Monday came around.

Josh had gone five days without seeing anything. But on his way to work, something new happened.

Now, Josh wasn't the kind of guy to drive anywhere without music. He was listening to Green Day (figures) when he noticed that someone was talking to him. He turned down his music, and the voice stopped. Of course, it must have been the song, or something interfering with the radio, or--

**_Get out of the fucking car._ **

Josh slammed on the brakes.

Josh thanked his lucky fucking stars nobody was behind him when he came to a screeching halt. But of course, traffic doesn't stop for one man. And so when he heard horns blaring behind him and saw cars speeding past, he turned his music the fuck up, hummed to fill the air, and told himself not to think about it. To keep driving. He was almost there.

Don't think.

Josh made it to work on time, thankfully, and walked through the doors of the local coffee shop.

Don't think.

He tied on his apron and clocked in, employee number flying freely from his fingertips.

Don't think.

He started working, checking orders and taking them and making them. He was a fairly talented barista. God, but he wouldn't be much use if he lost his fucking mind, would he?

Stop thinking.

But he couldn't.

That night, Josh left without saying a word. It was at least an hour before he was scheduled to leave, but Josh couldn't bring himself to care. His mind was screaming at him, and he was terrified he'd start to hear his words instead of thinking them.

Visions dotted his peripheral as he drove, hands waving, tongues wagging, objects that were certainly not human chasing him, being pulled apart.

Josh kept his eyes trained on the road.

"Shut up. Stop fucking around, brain. Stop fucking around."

He talked to fill the silence.

Josh got home to an empty house. That's right--his parents were both working that night.

 ~~I can't fucking take this anymore, the pain I feel, I can never talk about, not to anyone, god~~ _I should reach out to Sam._

Josh pulled out his phone, and yet he found himself staring at the screen, mind pushing back his tears. Behind the wall.

_I can't. I talk to her too much._

Josh knew Sam would rather him be safe, and yet somewhere inside, he didn't _want_ to be safe.

_" **You showed me** this. That dying . . . **Dying can be beautiful**."_

Three hours later, Melinda Washington found her son on his bedroom floor, unconscious. She woke him up. He didn't seem to hear a thing she said. He stared at the ceiling. He couldn't focus. The ceiling fan was eating itself.

He fell back asleep.

He woke up again, in a hospital. No. No, not a hospital. The world was moving. He was in an ambulance. Josh stared out the small window. He tried to move his arms and noticed they were loosely strapped down to a stretcher. They were heavy. The world blinked out after a few minutes of driving.

Josh knew he was awake for the next hour, and yet instead of an hour of consciousness, it felt like seven hours of sleep with intermediate times where he would wake up. Eventually, however, he woke up needing to use the restroom.

Josh removed the patches across his body and stood. Immediately, the world tilted, tilted so far and he had to grab onto the bed. His vision was narrow, surrounded by a vignette. He pressed on. He really fucking had to pee.

When he went to wash his hands, he heard them. The whispers. They started scarce--but he knew better than to shrug them off. He was too tired to acknowledge that the fear he had as they grew louder, so incredibly loud, indistinct voices that were so distinctly male and female, young and old, whispering in hushed tones, overlapping, overwhelming, there were so many--why couldn't he understand them?

Was that . . . Hannah? Beth?

Josh turned, put his body weight on the door to open it, and walked back to his room. He slipped back on the device on his finger but ignored the patches. He laid down, but his eyes were wide open.

He was afraid. He was afraid of sleeping, for fear that he wouldn't wake up. And yet the thought brought shame to his mind.

Josh forced himself to close his eyes and felt the second round of tears that night paint his cheeks. He told himself he hoped he never woke up.

###  _Summary of Treatment_

_Patient arrived delirious/confused. Strong symptoms of major depressive disorder, related to death/disappearance of sisters._

_Placed patient under observation._

_ECT was considered, given patient's history of tapering drug effects, but rejected._

_CBT, IPT, psychoanalysis, etc, failed to produce any improvement._

_New course of drugs was necessary._

_Patient moved onto a non-selective MAOI. Rationale being that SSRIs and SNRIs have proven ineffective in the past._

_Phenelzine 60mg initially. Higher than average dose was necessary to see reduction of symptoms._

_After 2 weeks, patient's symptoms and mood were greatly improved._

_Discharged on 16th May after final consultation proved satisfactory._

It was 2 weeks before Josh was released from the hospital. Once he was, he walked away a free man with a new antidepressant prescription, some much-needed group therapy, and some cool non-slip socks.

He was ready to begin his life again, someone new and changed. Someone who could be vulnerable again. Someone who would reach out, and be fun to be around, and be like the old him. He wanted, he desperately wanted, to have that. To be who his family and friends would love. To be who he was.

And so Josh reached out.

He spoke those surface level conversations with his family he used to conquer. He sent memes to his friends. He hung out with Sam. He even told her he'd been struggling, though not in detail. He opened up. He answered questions. He asked questions. He cared.

Everything was going fine, going as he wanted, as Dr. Hill said they should. But then he got comfortable.

One night, Josh sent a text to the group chat--he'd been going through his photos, freeing up space by deleting what was unnecessary, when he'd stumbled across an old photo of them all celebrating Hannah and Beth's 16th birthday. It struck a chord with him, out of all the photos he had of them. He didn't know why. Maybe it was because everybody looked so . . . happy. They were together, really together, not split into their respective friend-pairs. Not awkwardly avoiding any genuine conversation. Not sticking to memes to keep their relationship some-what alive. It was . . . a better time.

Then Josh sent it to his friends.

He didn't get a single reply. Only a meme, sent the next morning by Jess.

Josh knew it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, and he guessed he could have shrugged it off, if it weren't for the times that followed.

For the next week, Josh fixated on the lack of communication, the lack of authenticity between them. It was painful.

Every time he brought up anything even remotely personal, it was answered bluntly then skimmed over. Ironically, his unwanted thoughts actually seemed to reconnect his friends as they tried to make conversation after his . . . outbursts.

But that wasn't nearly all that was bothering Josh.

His "perfect world" began to feel even more false than it had before the hospital. And the hallucinations from before--they didn't stop.

And so Josh was left alone again, drowning in his thoughts and running from the fear of his own mind. Running towards the past, toward his sisters--Hannah, Beth . . . He missed them. He missed them so fucking much he felt it underneath his skin, burning, twisting him, pulling him down . . .

He had to do something. He was past his threshold for pain. He was overkill. He was an animated corpse.

And so one night, Josh got in his bed and stared at his sheets until he cried. He cried harder than he had in a while--his whole body shaking, a tremor in his legs and his stomach lurching up and down, side to side. His breathing was loud and labored, face covered in snot and tears.

But something pulled him out of it.

Josh swears he remembers someone at his side, rubbing his back and telling him . . . telling him he was meant for more than wasting away in tears.

The voice told him to stop crying. It told him he had to stop taking things, and start making things.

And he listened.

Josh realized then just how much he'd been putting off his feelings around what happened to his sisters. Dr. Hill seemed to agree, even saying how proud he was that Josh came to this conclusion.

And so Josh delved into them, face first.

He drowned in them.

His life was no longer day by day, surviving like a wounded animal. No--his life had purpose, a _plan._ A plan long-awaited.

_**You were meant for great things, Josh. You can make this right.** _

_**You are a healer.** _

_**They need you.** _

_**You're going to be famous.** _

And Josh listened.

"Okay. Okay. _I trust you_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low key proud of this. I hope yall have a good rest of your night! Go read smth happy now. <3


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